


The Salt of Your Skin

by cathybites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybites/pseuds/cathybites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Dean's skin is probably slippery slick all over, tasting of nothing but sweat and heat, and Sam's mouth waters at the thought.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Salt of Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://girlmostlikely.livejournal.com/profile)[**girlmostlikely**](http://girlmostlikely.livejournal.com/) , as part of [The Accidental Porn Meme](http://tvm.livejournal.com/164182.html) prompted me for a ficlet with 'junkyard on a hot summer's day', which may have been just a little inspired by a preview of a picture I had posted, which is now finished and [posted here](http://community.livejournal.com/cathydraws/30415.html).

Sam gets it, he really does. Dean was...well, he was gone. For far longer than Sam cares to remember, and this is the first nice day since he's been back. But he's spent almost the entire day out in the yard, tinkering around with the Impala. Whistling and smiling, and Sam's been doing nothing but watch him work under the hot summer sun.

Right now, he's watching a bead of sweat work its way from the damp hair at the nape of Dean's neck down past the collar. Gone from sight, but Sam can imagine what it looks like, sees it as clear as day, sliding down the groove of Dean's spine in stops and starts, marking the path his tongue aches to make. The back of Dean's shirt is soaked through with sweat, but Sam bets some of it still manages to slip down his back. Bets it slows at the shallow dip above his ass, pausing, hanging in place just long enough to drive Dean nuts before rolling the rest of the way down. Dean's skin is probably slippery slick all over, tasting of nothing but sweat and heat, and Sam's mouth waters at the thought.

Dean's still going on about belts and gaskets and "Christ, Sam, did you change the oil at _all_?", completely oblivious to Sam's thoughts. He leans over the engine, stretching to dig in deep, and when he stands, Sam sees another drop of sweat working its way down the same path as the other one, and that's it, that's enough. Sam doesn't even think about it, just gets to his feet and stalks over to Dean.

All Dean has time for is a surprised shout before Sam drags him away from the car. Pushes him to the ground, mouth open against the back of his neck, doing nothing for a moment but breathing in salinated air. He shoves Dean's shirt up, licks along his spine, and all he can taste is salt and Dean. Dean shudders beneath him, and Sam stills him with gentle hands down his back. Up and down in a slow caress, trying to calm things down, but it just ratchets everything up. Both of them are panting, trying to suck dry air into overheated lungs.

Dean's skin is almost burning hot to the touch, warmed by his black shirt, and Sam swears he can hear the sizzle when he starts kissing Dean's back. His hands fumble to the fly of Dean's jeans, unbuckling and unzipping and yanking everything down, leaving Dean's ass exposed. The skin of it is pale, but as sweat-slick as everywhere else, and Sam dips his head to trace his tongue over the curve of one cheek, collecting the sweat on his tongue.

"C'mon, Sam," Dean says, shoulders dropped, head hanging forward. "C'mon," he says again, and Sam bends his head forward, hands spreading Dean wide, and licks a broad stripe right up the center.

Sweat bursts against his tongue, the sharp bite of it stinging just a little. Just enough to make him thirst for more, and he licks again, and again. The strokes become shorter, faster, his tongue firm against soft skin, and Dean curses, demands more. Sam chases the flavor of sweat to Dean's hole, licks it off the rim, and then follows it in.

Dean's even hotter inside, and even though it's nearing a hundred in the shade, Sam can't get enough of the heat. He presses in closer, digs his fingers in tighter, tongue working harder and deeper. He feels Dean shift, hears him jacking off, the slick sound of his hand working his dick. Sam's so hard himself he thinks he's going to explode, but he can't stop thrusting his tongue into Dean, listening to and feeling him get closer and closer. _samsamsamsam_ Dean says, and Sam sticks two fingers alongside his tongue. Spreads them wide to open Dean up more, get his tongue even deeper. Crooks and twists and thrusts everything, and Dean shakes under his hands and mouth, falls apart and spills onto the dust of the junkyard.

Sam rears back, catches his breath and wipes his mouth, tongue licking at his own lips and the inside of his mouth. Then Dean flips over, spent dick resting against his hip, covered in sweat and come, legs sprawled, and Sam crawls in between them. Works his pants down his hips and braces himself over Dean with one arm. He jerks himself off with the other, eyes darting back and forth from Dean's dick to his face. He looks up one last time, sees a bead of sweat follow the curve of Dean's cheekbone to his mouth. Sees Dean's tongue dart out to catch it, pale pink against his flushed skin, and Sam comes with a harsh gasp and groan, shooting all over Dean's belly.

He wrings the last few drops out with a shudder and collapses on top of Dean. "Fucker," Dean says, pushing him off. He heaves a breath. "It's too hot for this shit."

Sam doesn't say anything, just grunts. He throws an arm over his eyes, licks the salt off his teeth, and grins.


End file.
